


Unsuccessfully Coping With The Natural Beauty Of Infidelity

by vanishing_time



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Episode Related, Friendship/Love, Infidelity, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Rimming, Seduction, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_time/pseuds/vanishing_time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson tries to convince House he doesn't have to compete with Amber, but his dependency on neediness turns things upside down. And who is House to deny him anything?<br/>Set during No More Mr Nice Guy. (The irony.)<br/>There's a little, khm, explicit mention of Wilson/Amber, but nothing actual stuff.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsuccessfully Coping With The Natural Beauty Of Infidelity

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a juicy little smut with a jealous fantasy as plot, but then I realized I can't really handle season 4 Wilson, so I tried to express my conflicting emotions through House, and that made the fic sort of angsty. And the sex a little nasty.  
> The title is taken from a Type O Negative song of the _Slow, Deep and Hard_ album. Yeah. The lyrics are wonderful.

The click of the door behind her is like the curtain falling down on the fourth wall.

"Daddy needs a drink."

I can feel your smile in my back, smug as hell as you follow me into the kitchen. "Don't you dare say a word," I warn you, but of course why would you care.

"Wow, you're both amazing. The way you're fighting over me is rather entertaining."

"Please wipe that shit-eating grin off your face," I say as I pass you a beer, and you take it from me, cheeks rising into pointy peaks of laughter, and you continue like you didn’t hear me.

"I think you’d also feel the same if it was about you. You'd mock the hell out of me in the next fifty years."

"Well now, Mommy's been gone only for a few moments, and the kid is getting cheeky already."

You still smirk as we settle down on the couch, putting your feet on my table and drinking half of the bottle in a long, greedy gulp. "You know what your problem is? You're jealous! Not that I don’t find that amusing, but how stupid that is?" You squirm to take off your sweater, and at this rate you’re going to be drunk in five minutes. You’re such a lightweight, and I smile internally at the thought. "I need a woman in my life, you know. I love women. I really like Amber, and maybe, maybe she could give me children one day. You know I always wanted a family."

With that, your voice trails off into fantasyland. Oh God, here we go again. I release a theatrical sigh. "Yeah, I've got this. The nice, successful and stable man you seem to think yourself as. And what do nice, successful and stable men do? They get married to nice women. Everyone expects that from you. They expect you to be normal, and you struggle to fit in. Or else, what would they say? They might" -- dramatic gasp _\-- "talk_."

You wince a little but you ignore what I’ve said. "If you say so. My point is, you're afraid that you might lose me. But why do you think that?"

I don't like where this conversation is going. I already lost you once. And that was when… Whatever. But I don't say a word, just let you continue.

"Amber and you don’t have to battle for me. I can’t deny that I enjoy it, but it's getting ridiculous now. I need a woman in my life as much as I need you. I know you feel my relationship with her is threatening you somehow, but… Just because I have a girlfriend now, doesn't mean I don't need my friend."

"And who wouldn't be happy to be your next best choice to spend your free time with when you get tired of humping, you ray of sunshine," I say, but it comes out more bitter than sarcastic, and your smile fades.

"Don't be an asshole. I’m right here, aren’t I? Me in a relationship, that has nothing to do with you. Nothing will change. You should know that."

Interesting.

"You now how can one tell when a man is lying? His lips are moving."

"Hey! I‘m not lying. You're both important. And you, House, you still matter to me."

With that, you shift closer to me. And I wait, frozen like a rabbit in headlight, holding my breath until my lungs begin to sting. At last, slowly and almost hesitantly, you touch my hand, fingers settling neatly between mine.

I wait. Minutes pass. Or milliseconds. I have no idea.

"It's all about this, isn't it?" Your voice is incredibly tender. "The way you look at me… The things you say, the way you speak to me. The way you fight for me."

I stare at our hands, momentarily noticing their contrast, the fine dark hair on your pale skin, the wrinkles and veins on mine. You curl your fingers, and my eyes are now fixed on your face, watching your expression change slightly as you're removing your disguise, bit by bit.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

Not this. Not now.

"Are you high? You could’ve told me I shouldn’t waste my beer on you." I can't recognise my own voice, it’s so low and hoarse. Maybe even sad.

You just smile, and in a flash you’re in my lap, straddling me not too elegantly, still careful of my leg, so very like you, looking at me with head slightly tilted down, eyes fluttering, lips parted and moist, the corners of them curling up. "You will always matter," you say, and I twitch at the feel of your fingers on my scalp, and in the mix of emotions I find myself entertained, angry and astonished as you are trying to seduce me.

Why do you take off your good guy mask for me?

Sometimes I don't want to see underneath it.

Sometimes I don’t want to be the one you to stop acting for.

Sometimes I wonder whether you are a manipulative sociopath.

I wonder if maybe… I’m the one who makes you feel free. Feel human.

"The fuck are you doing." I don't think I’m ready to hear the answer.

And yet the dance begins.

Again.

"Proving you wrong. Enjoying your attention." You sound so axiomatic, so natural as you lean closer.

I try to protest. I really try. I harden my voice as much as I can. "I don't want you to touch me. Go and do this to the CB." But don’t buy this bullshit, you know me better than that. You shift your hips to push your groin into mine, not rubbing, just pressing, and I twitch at our mixed heat and humidity.

A red spark of _something_ in my chest. Pins and needles in my hands.

"Now who’s lying," you murmur, and your smile becomes daring, provoking, with a strange tenderness behind it, or maybe it’s just what I long to see. I think I smirk back at you, but I’m not happy at all, no, far from that. It's rather a sneer. I hate it when you’re like this, this is a thing I don't understand. And I can’t cope with this responsibility right now; I tore a part too big out of myself so I could let you go, and now you are coming back? I think about her for an instant, her confident, proud and arrogantly innocent face, and I almost feel sorry for her; and suddenly my anger flares up, because you betray everybody you declare to love, and I don't care whether you have lasting affairs or just fool around, or if you don't fuck just confess your undying love here and there, it's the same thing, and I don't want to be one of those people, and I hope that you won’t say those three words to _me,_ ever. _Amber, Amber,_ I think of her eyes as I whisper her name.

"What makes you think she wouldn't forgive me?" you purr against my earlobe, and when you touch my hand again, I jerk it away in one last attempt to put an end to this.

"Quit fucking toying with me," I growl at you loudly, hating this, hating you. The way you're turned on by neediness is disgusting. "You come at me only--"

The sentence is cut off as you grab my shoulders and shove me against the couch.

Sometimes I forget how strong you are. I swallow hard.

_Leave me alone. Just leave me alone._

You are so close, and I'm staring at the dimples on your cheeks and the laugh lines around your eyes, your cruel, insane, pleading, warm, wonderful eyes.

_I don't want to do this. I don't want to face this._

Your breath is hot on my chin, laced with beer and the remnants of bubblegum mint.

_I don’t want this thing to be awakened in me._

Your fingernails are tickling, scratching my nape, my ears.

_Please…_

My head is spinning and I can’t see the barriers anymore.

_Oh God, please…_

The walls are closing in, the borders of the field of my vision are dimming, and all I can see is you, your warm colours, the tiny lines of eyelashes, the small dot at the corner of your mouth, the light gleaming on your lips, shining through the tender fluffs on your cheekbones.

_Oh, how I long for you. How I…_

This is pathetic. I’m pathetic. This fucking symbiosis is slowly killing me.

But the only one who makes me feel human is you.

"Maybe I need you more than I realized," you breathe, voice wondering and dreamy, as if you seriously didn’t know.

Oh, but I know, I know the reasons too well. Because it's the only way you can express your longing, your desire to connect, your wish to maintain contact. This is the only way you can express…

"What do you want from me?" I ask quietly, unhappily and I screw my eyes shut as you touch my face feather-lightly.

It's so ridiculous to ask that I almost laugh at myself.

"Take me to your bedroom." Your voice is soft like a red ribbon around my throat.

"Why?" I look up at you, wincing at your boldness. "Why now?"

I'm at least as angry at myself as at you, for this once it’s me who enables your betrayal, and I let you feast on my neediness and let you feel yearned for.

"Because…" Pause. "The only time you want me is when you’re afraid of losing me."

I stare at you, you’re still smiling and it’s infuriating, but there’s something inapposite in your eyes, and I convince myself that it's not sadness. It's not. And you’re mistaken. You’re mistaken…

"Wilson…" I can't believe I'm pleading.

You need needy people to function, to feel you’re desirable.

I won’t deny proving that for you.

Your eyes are gleaming. "If you really don't want… this, that’s okay. I won’t touch you, I’ll leave it like this and never speak of it again."

_…No._

It's too late, I’m giving in. I already gave in a long time ago. Years ago. I can't think straight anymore, your heat envelops me and my arms rise to reach after you when you draw back; and you take it as encouragement, I catch a glimpse of your relieved smile, and the next thing I feel is your wet mouth on my own, your hand on the back of my head, pulling me in, thighs squeezing the outsides of mine, and it hurts… You’re not bothering to be modest, teasing my lips open with your tongue, soaking me, and your thick, warm saliva is mingling with mine, tasting of malt and you, it’s sweet, oh so sweet… It’s been years since our last kiss, and you must have craved it for a long time, too, because you moan loudly, shamelessly suckling my lower lip, and it’s good, so soft and wet. I'm biting gently at the tiny peak of your upper lip as my hand reaches up on its own to caress your face, and my tongue is sweeping over your teeth, the inner walls of your mouth, it's so dirty and immoral… I can feel your despair as you inhale sharply through your nose, licking my insides, and I can even feel your craving to be accepted behind your mask of smugness, your longing behind the vortex of lust; it’s all screwed up, you’re so screwed up, we both are, I want to get away from you and I want to be engulfed in your body and soul forever.

"Oh, I've been waiting for this," you whisper onto my mouth at last, pulling a string of spit between our lips as we part, and I lean ahead a little to unconsciously follow you. Our wheezing echoes faintly in the room. "Wanna touch me, House?" you ask, gripping my shoulders, rubbing leisurely against me now, your lips parted, cheeks already flushed with desire, ragged breathing making my face damp. "Wanna taste me?"

"You’re such a… man-whore," I say, but my voice breaks as you smile at me, and it's maddening, I don't know if I’d rather punch you or get on my knees to worship you.

"Like it doesn't turn you on."

"Seems like it turns you on more," I say and that’s true, I haven't even touched you yet and I can feel you're rock hard already, so hard I'm surprised your pants don't rip apart. You’re smirking, taking my hand and placing it gently over your groin, and I reflexively close my fingers around you, feeling your erection underneath the tiny knurls of the fabric, and I twitch again, and your lids are fluttering closed, face contorting a little, your brows are drawn together as if you were in pain.

You’re beautiful.

"Ah, House… Look what you do to me…" Your sigh is soft as you cover my hand with yours, and who am I kidding, I also feel the soft pulsating of lust in my groin, the twitching of my stomach, and my heart is beating faster at the sensation of touching you.

This obsession is slowly taking over me, and I let it.

"You’re still a slut," I whisper, but my mouth is dry, and I’m not protesting anymore.

"Am I?" You thrust into my hand, and it’s me who gasps, not you. "Maybe. But I’ve always been a slut only for you."

At the meaning behind those words my eyes widen, but then the thought is immediately wiped away when you press your body against mine, and my face is in your neck now, and I inhale deeply and slowly. You said you showered, and I can smell the clean fragrance of your shower gel, your deodorant and your fresh sweat underneath it. You smell as yourself, and I’m getting drowsy because it’s been a long time since your scent penetrated my nose and suffused my mind, and it brings back lovely, lovely memories. I keep breathing at your exposed throat, your jaw, your ear, slowly despite my rapid heartbeat, enjoying the awakening of my senses, and I'm stroking you absent-mindedly, grateful for not having to think of anything for a few moments; and you gently caress my shoulder, the back of my hand in your lap, releasing a series of faint, encouraging sighs.

But then I catch a glimpse of something else, something obvious in your hair because you didn't wash that, and I can feel her pheromones and I’m not sure I only imagine the smell of her cunt, my fantasy completing the shreds of molecules into the pungent odor of a woman. At first I don't recognize it, but then there’s a sudden flash in my mind, of you, loudly eating her out, your head digging between her legs, soft pink tongue lashing and slurping eagerly at her clit, chin getting sticky all over with her juices, her hands tangled in your hair, her crotch, her glistening labia rubbing on your open, swollen mouth, your tongue disappearing in her folds; and at the image I feel myself stiffen even more, but I also hear a loud, dangerous growl, and I faintly realize it's my own as my jaw clenches, my scalp prickles with the hair standing on end, my lips draw back to reveal my teeth.

"How do I smell?"

You choose that exact moment to ask that, like you knew, your whispering is like barbed wire wrapped in living flesh and the small lick of your tongue is burning my earlobe, because you know, and you _want_ me to feel… jealous, you _want_ me to be angry and possessive. And you get that, I push you off and throw you on the couch, and you look up at me as you land on your back and an elbow, but you just keep smiling. "Do you like it?" you ask as you spread your legs for me, flicking your fingers over the outlines of your hardness in invitation, and I violently shove your thighs further apart as I dive my way down on you, to bury my face in the juncture of your thigh and crotch, to smell you through the fabric; and there I can’t sense any trace of her at all, there's nothing but your own fresh, thick, masculine fragrance, the odor of your _cock_ soaked in your clothes, mixed with the slight scent of washing powder. It makes my head spin, and scenes of the last time we slept together pop up in my mind.

I never forgot how your heat radiated, never forgot your fevered panting next to my earlobe, the flushed-pale colour of your skin, your _words,_ oh, your voice faltering with lust, begging, moaning, urging me on, the sharp pleasure of seeing you, making you arch in ecstasy; and suddenly my mouth is watering and my lungs sting with heaving.

I _must_ experience those sensations again.

I bite the firm flesh of your thigh, rub my face on your straining arousal through the loose trousers before breathing on it damply, humidly with my open mouth fastened over it, the fabric drying my lips. You shudder, and I'm thinking of that you’ve been inside her recently, and my stomach twitches and I sink my teeth into your cock a little, hearing you growl so deeply and so desperately that it makes me want to claim you, mark you, make you mine forever, lick your perfect skin all over to wash the dirt of the bitch off you.

And that's the moment when I stop caring about her. She doesn’t know shit, I think furiously as I’m panting hard, tugging at the tails of your shirt, she has no idea of anything we've gone through together. She's no more but a mere proxy. Nothing is real but the desire we share. Nobody is real but you and me.

You grab my nape and pull me to your mouth to tame my frenziness, taking my hand, twining our fingers, and I irrationally think of the way you led me when we went hiking a million years ago; you were joking and laughing while reaching out for me, and the sunlight was running between your fingers and the summer was dancing in your body as you helped me get through a stream; and those sunlit fingers are now skimming on the skin of my forearm while you kiss slowly and tenderly, tongue caressing my lips, and my mind goes blissfully mild and quiet to everything but you.

You’re here, and it’s right, it's all right, everything is.

"I wanna see you," I manage to rasp out after you release me. You rise, hesitating for the slightest moment, but then you pull off your shirt, and I hungrily watch your exposed, naked skin, your broad shoulders and your pink nipples, your soft stomach, your long legs and straining cock in your pants, and I'm so thirsty for you I think I’ll go blind with the thrill of having you like this. Your body changed since the last time I saw it but I don't care, you're maddeningly attractive, I don't care about anything as I reach out to touch your waist, your chest, I reach behind you to feel the velvety planes of muscles in your back. You melt into my arms, holding me, kissing me again, wet mouth tenderly moving against mine, and I can't help but cling to you.

And then you lick at my jaw, and you begin to purr in my ears seductively, fingers sliding over my face. "House… if you knew how many times I think of you… when I'm alone and when I… touch myself." _Oh… God._ I catch my breath but you whisper softly, eyes closing, pulling me tight against you, pressing into me, and we rub our cocks together as you keep murmuring. "Yeah… I jerk myself, hard, while imagining your hands on me, your lips on my skin…" I screw my eyes shut, shivering violently at your words, and in my head I can see you, spread naked on your tangled sheets, sweating, panting, face twisted, hand flying over your thick, erect shaft, the other hand stroking your chest, playing with your nipples; and you continue speaking, reaching under my shirt, hands cool and shaking on my flaming flesh; I feel you struggle for self-control, your puffs of breath scorching my throat as you fuel us both with your fantasy. "And, oh God… you, inside me, ah, the feel of… your cock, instead of my fingers, filling me…" And at that I groan deeply and grind into your lap, I'm lost, so lost, I want you to shut up and keep talking like this forever. "And then I imagine myself…" Dark, dark whispering voice that I almost don’t recognise, so raw it’s almost foreign, "riding you, f-fucking myself on you…" Your voice breaks into a moan against my lips, and the image of you, holding onto my shoulders as you're writhing in my lap is too much, the roar of the blood in my ears is deafening.

"Shut up… just shut up," I command or rather beg you, and your hands are tender and steady as you unbutton my shirt and lift up my t-shirt and you squirm so you can lick long lines onto my chest, sucking my nipples, making them aching; and I'm panting loudly as you explore me, hands running back and forth on my body, and I arch, seeking, demanding more of your touch while you lavish me. 

Don't stop. Don't ever stop…

You're at my lap now, pushing me to kneel up, and I helplessly grab the back of the couch as your hands are opening my zipper and my cock juts out, and you look in my eyes before licking it from base to tip, maddeningly slowly, swirling your tongue to taste the fluid oozing from the head, and I groan though I'd rather scream.

And then, oh, you take me in your mouth, red lips so soft, softer than any woman's, and you moan while teasing me with your wet warmness, and I watch your flickering, silky tongue, your mischievous half-smirk, your glowing eyes. I touch your face, feeling myself in my hand through your flesh, and you haven't even sank down on me completely but it's so wonderful, my mind is already darkening… But then it's abruptly over, and suddenly I taste myself on your lips.

"Greg," you whisper, you goddamn incubus, breath hot on my earlobe, arms hanging loosely around my neck, playing with my hair like a damn slut you're acting to be or you are, your pleading voice is so quiet I can hardly hear it. "Please… please. Make me yours."

And I push you onto the couch and I yank down my clothes and I tear the pants off your gorgeous, tempting body, and I can't even get to fully undress you, as soon as your cock springs free I take it in my mouth to get a taste, I'm so hungry for you, and hearing your cry almost makes me lose control; but I will myself to slow down, so I release you, and when I've stripped you and we're both naked, I dive low once again to kiss and bite your thighs. Your musk is radiating damply from your groin, and I love the way you smell, growing dizzy with the thought that you're hard for _me,_ your cock flushed so dark, so thick and glistening and delicious like some unique, savoury dessert, I never forgot how it looked like, how it felt like, how it _tasted,_ and I thread my fingertips through the hair that surrounds it.

You're looking at me intensely, eyes following my every movement, and I push your cock against your abdomen, pressing and stroking the underside with my palm, and I admire the sight of your straining body, chest shifting up in the air; you're so eager, I barely touched you yet but you're already trembling and grunting softly, squirming encouragingly. I squeeze you, feeling the stiffness in my palm, watching my thumb draw tiny circles on that small, moist slit, spreading the pearls of wetness there, and as I hear your wail I rub more roughly, the way you liked it last time; and I’m rewarded with a few more beads, your hips rise up to pump in my fist. I’m amazed that you can be almost as wet as my women, and your cock is so pretty, so beautiful in my hand as I play with it, and you bite your lip, head falling back in pleasure, and then I can't resist anymore. I press your thighs wider so I can settle between them, leaning down to lick your full, heavy testicles, teasing you, sucking them into my mouth one by one, feeling how firm they've become before taking the head of your hot cock between my lips, skin so silky and slick and tasting ah so good, familiar and still unfamiliar, and I want to suck you every day of my life.

"Fuck," you cry out, eyes widening as my tongue flickers over the faint line of your scar, swirling around your shaft, pressing at the pulsating veins, but then suddenly it's not enough and I swallow you whole, spreading my saliva on your length, letting your flesh fill me deliciously, and I gag a little when you buck, but I don't mind. You thrash and stroke my hair and thrust into my mouth, fucking it so deep as your breathing turns into harsh groaning. "Fuck, you're good, so fucking good", you pant, and the heavy heat between my legs is becoming almost unbearable. Your taste, the firmness of your velvet flesh melts into my mouth and spreads on my tongue as I slide up and down on you, your scent fills my nose and your moaning voice is the most intoxicating thing I've ever heard, and I think I will come just by sucking you off and feasting on your pleasure, and I want you to come in my mouth, I want your semen and its taste and its thickness and the twitching of your cock and the tightening of your balls and your cries and I don't even care if you will reciprocate or not…

I'm so lost in you I don't remember that there's so much more to do, but then you push me away softly, looking in my eyes. "House… take me… _use_ me, the way you want to, I know you want to," you say breathlessly, and your little smile is maddening even as you’re shuddering with lust. Though you're begging, you’re still the one in command; but I can also do anything I want, and you will let me, because your passion is mine and mine is yours.

And you’re right, I do crave to use you, to take you from behind like an animal, like a fucking dog, I want to press your face in the cushions, I want our thighs to tremble against each other's, want to feel the curve of your ass slapping against my groin, want the sweat on your back to mix with the sweat on my belly, want your desperate groans of delight to resonate through my chest, your muscles to ripple against my skin, want to hide my face in your soaked hair, dig my teeth in your neck, lick your earlobe, want to hug you tight, bury my hands between your legs as I pound into you until you scream my name.

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuck you," I whisper onto your thigh, "oh fuck, I'm gonna make you feel good, make you come so hard…" I tremble at the thought and you groan deeply, shakily in answer. I kneel up, weight resting on my good leg, pulling your cock against mine, so our lengths are settling perfectly, my moan is mingling with yours as I rub ourselves together for a while, it's warm and damp and rigid, so right, so intimate, so perfect. But then I nudge you to turn onto your stomach, so I can admire your ass, firm and shapely under my palm. I mount you to nip at your neck, your shoulders, to kiss your broad back along the small humps of your spine, skin so clean and soft under my lips, and your encouraging little wriggles, quiet little sighs are so arousing. I press my tongue flat against your tailbone, resting there a little, and then I spread your buttocks so I can lick between them, my fingers digging in their flesh, and you gasp loud as I’m lapping at you slowly, lusciously until I reach your balls to give them a soft caress. You release a long, shuddering whimper from the pit of your stomach, and I love it, it makes me ache and my skin tingle. Then I dive in again into your warm, silky deliciousness, breathing your name onto your skin as I’m plowing in your cleft up and down, hearing my moans echoing yours, pressing hard with the flat of my tongue against the whole area, and I lick softly that small ring of muscle, teasing it open before plunging into you, and you cry out and quiver, pushing back against me, clutching at the armrest, and I will make you lose control, I will give you so much pleasure you'll never forget.

"Oh, God!" you keep groaning violently at my lapping, "House, yes, fuck me! Eat me… use me, I need you…do… fuck, do… anything to me… everything you want!" Then you go breathless, and I grab your hips to pull you tighter to my face, my stubble rustling on your velvet skin, and you tremble and shout as I'm fucking you with my tongue, opening you, stretching you, caressing your silky inner walls, and you taste hot, pure and dirty, sweaty and dark, clean and unique, I've never tasted anybody like you, my perfect lover, my lovely whore, I want to swallow you whole as I drink in your desperate cries, and it's filthy, messy and noisy as I’m making you wet and soaked for me in hot, sloppy strokes, preparing you.

"Turn on your back, I wanna see your face," I say then, gasping for air, and you obey, looking up at me expectantly and almost lovingly as you reach after me to caress my arms.

"I want you," you whisper as you look at me wide-eyed, like you were amazed by the heat filling your body, and you spread your legs for me once again, lifting up your chin, your swollen, bruised lips parting, tongue flicking over them in an invitation to be kissed. I duck my head down, sharing your taste with you as I align our hips, pushing your knees up to your chest while you gently guide me to your entrance.

Until you, I didn't experience how different it is to open up a man than a woman. How much tighter, tougher, more intimate… how much hotter, more painful, more brutal, dirtier and more sensitive, but just as maddeningly beautiful. I‘m panting as I slide into you with short little pushes, and your muscles embrace me, your groans echo in my ears, my fingers dig in your hips and my breath dampens your skin as I burrow my face in your neck, feeling your fingernails tearing my back but it's all right. You buck against me when you finally take me all in, and it feels, oh God, it feels so fantastic to be in you, in _you,_ I almost cry, but all I manage is a series of gasps. Your arms are clasping me tight, our sweat is mingling and drops are trickling down at your sides, and you're tense and taut and strong, growling deep from your chest, enfolding me, enveloping me, and through the sparkling pleasure of becoming one with you, through your licks and bites on my shoulder, your sweaty fingers tangled in my hair, as you're panting _yes yes yes,_ I can’t think of anything else but how extraordinary you are. How dark you are, a riddle I can never get to completely solve, and it drives me mad and I love it and I love every minute we spend together. I love and hate that you’ll never be only mine, and I wish I could be inside you forever, buried in your heat, your strength, your masculine fragrance, your muscles, your kisses, because perhaps this is my only chance, and please, please don't ever let me go…

You lift your hips and I straighten up to look at our bodies merging. It's amazing, the sight makes me dizzy, and I _need_ to reach down to touch, to gently rub at our joined flesh, to press my fingers against your opening, squeeze around my shaft as I pull out and push in again, feeling the movement in my hand as you take me in, and it’s so obscene it makes me groan shamelessly, and I thrust, looking for that spot of nerves inside you.

"Yes! Yes, there," you moan so loud when I find it, and you push against me, fingernails biting into my skin, "please… do it again!" And I begin to drive and plunge into your soft slick little ass, oh it's so hot, and you grab my waist to force me in deeper, hands gliding on the sweat on my back, calves pressing to my hips, your whole body moving in perfect rhythm to meet my thrusts. My wanton little demon… my Wilson… Your cock is throbbing and leaking between us as it rubs against my belly, making it sticky, and your brows are furrowed, the tendons tense in your throat as you clutch my arms and grind your teeth, your tempo becoming frantic back against my undulating hips.

"Fuck yes, House, more…" Low, breathless begging, deep brown gaze sinking into mine, "take me… fuck me, harder…" I watch your swollen, red cherry lips forming those filthy words, I listen to your pleasant voice, distorted, deepened by lust, you're completely undone, but I think I'm also groaning like a maniac, and can't rip my eyes off of you even as I grab your legs to put them over my shoulders, leaning down, folding you in half, and we both cry out and suddenly I’m plunging deeper into you than I ever thought was possible, my ribs are pressing against the back of your thighs. I'm faintly aware of the pain in my leg, but for now I can ignore it and it’s a blessing, and I slowly go insane with the swirl of emotions and sensations. I kiss you, clumsily and sloppily, my tongue sweeping over yours, your hot insides, fucking your mouth, and you greedily suck on it, and I long to kiss you forever, and I need you so much I can hardly _breathe…_

I still, just a little, just to feel you from the inside, your body curled on itself, enwrapping me, so hot, velvety and wonderful, I nip your leg on my shoulder, caress your thigh. You look up at me from below heavy eyelashes, amazed, amused, rocking back on me ever so slightly, eyes clouded and black and beautiful, but suddenly becoming way too big, way too shiny, your lips part and the words slip out from between them. "Why… Oh God, why does this feel so good… so right?"

I touch your face, tracing your mouth with my thumb, and I can't get enough, can never get enough of you. I wrap my hands softly around your neck, my thumbs stroking your Adam's apple, the hollow of your throat, and you look at me, dazed and longing, your face is so beautiful, looks so edible, I lean down to give a long, sloppy lick from your chin, through your cheeks and your adorable cheekbones to your temple, tasting your sweat as I bury my hand in your silky hair. "Because I know what you really need," I whisper gently onto your lips, and you sigh, "then give it to me," and pull me deeper in with a clench of your thighs, and I'm lost in you and I can't help it.

"Do you love me?" I ask before I could bite it back, before I realize how stupid and meaningless it is, I’m such a pathetic idiot, and I'm frightened for a heartbeat what you might say next, but you answer immediately, without hesitation.

"Oh yes, you know I do," you whisper as you smile at me, black eyes flashing, half-lidded with rapture, and if I like, I can convince myself that it was just the lust in me that asked you that, and only the pleasure in you was answering; but even if you lie, I know I can't deny you anything. You‘re an idiot, the slave of your passions, but I can't have a word against it because I'm as much as the slave of my own passions, and the slave of yours.

I love you. I fucking love you.

_Why did you have to awake this in me?_

_Why are you so merciless?_

But then I hear your pleading, "please…" and I can’t hold back anymore, I put your legs around my waist and begin to move again, to pump into you violently fast, sucking on your neck, moaning, I don't know what, something banal like _oh fuck, oh Wilson, oh you feel so fucking good,_ and your flesh is rippling around me, arms clutching my shoulders, your deep, guttural groans are vibrating in my belly.

"Tell me," I'm panting as I look at you, "tell me how it feels, how _I_ feel, tell me."

You screw your eyes shut and gasp. "House, I can't…"

"Tell me!"

I hit your prostate as I angle my thrusts, and your face twists into a grimace of ecstasy. "Oh… it’s… hot," you choke out, trying to form words, cheeks glowing bright red with embarrassment and breathlessness, "tight… hard, it-it feels so full… it burns, it's good, it's fantastic! You’re fucking me so deep, I can feel you deep inside me, in my stomach… and you’re so… oh, fuck, so fucking thick and… and… it hurts, a little, but I don't want it to end…" Then you groan and arch back, and I think I'll go mad with the lust and love I feel for you.

"Fuck yes… good little boy," I mock you, but I love your filthy talk so much I'm shivering, and my movements are becoming frantic, I slip my arms around you to pull your body on me, to impale you, brutally rocking us both with all the strength I have, fucking you so forcefully that you're slipping half off the couch, and you're clawing at the floor and the back of the sofa for balance, clasping my waist with your legs.

"Oh… oh--fucking fuck… oh… House!" Your voice is rasping in pleasure, making my loins ache, your arms are tensing, spine arching, head thrown back; and through the crimson fog of my lust I'm thinking that you look like a god, a crucified, unholy, desecrated god, divine, heavenly, filthy and shameless as you’re almost sobbing, "I need--ah, touch me, jerk me off!" And I wrap my fingers around your swollen, throbbing, leaking cock, and it only takes a few flicks of my wrist until you wail my name and spill into my hand, and I get high on your moans as I watch your come spurting, flowing over my fist and on your quivering stomach, I watch your face contorting in rapture, your eyes squeezing shut, the veins pulsing on your temple, brows creasing, throat billowing… You're so hot and your release arouses me so much that I can't hold back, and when you look at me, at the sight of your sparkling eyes I follow you, my breath hitches in my lungs as I pull out to come all over you, so you can see it, see my come mixing with yours on your skin, and I’m out of this world and I feel nothing but you beneath me, around me, your faint, encouraging whispers, your soul and your soft, firm, twitching, loving body, and sweet, sweet freedom.

With you, I don’t feel the pain.

With you, I can almost believe in a God.

After, we rest beside each other, panting, sweating, not letting go, and then I realize I'm still whispering your name.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, worried that I’d might been too rough on you, and you answer with a soft _no,_ but you’re trembling like you're freezing, clutching at me.

"House…" My name fades on your lips, and I embrace you tight, burying my face in your hair.

"It's okay, Jimmy. It's okay," I whisper, and you slowly relax, searching for my mouth with yours, and I feel tears on my cheek as we kiss, but I can’t tell which one of us they belong to.

You don't say anything else, and as I listen to your soft breathing against my jaw, feel your hand resting on my chest and our come drying on our skin, I’m thinking about what just happened.

I’m not angry, not afraid anymore.

I wish you were happy. I wish it was me who made you happy, but if it was her, and if it was honest happiness, I wouldn’t mind sharing you, even if it hurt. At least that’s what I used to think, but I doubt it all now, and I get this ugly, dark, selfish confidence that in the end, even if you choose her, you’ll eventually screw it up, as you always do. I just know it.

Or maybe she’ll screw it up. Or I’ll screw it up. Or life itself will.

And though I don’t believe in fate, I can’t shake off the thought that sooner or later we both shall pay a price.

But I’ll always be here for you, and I’m thinking long-term.


End file.
